


Nightmares, Dreams and Catastrophic Plans

by daphne_minor



Series: Way Down [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: BAMF Pepper Potts, Consent Issues, Daredevil (TV) Spoilers, F/M, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, M/M, Mentioned Skip Westcott, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Wade Wilson, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25671511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphne_minor/pseuds/daphne_minor
Summary: “It should’ve been me, not Tony. It would’ve been -“ Peter took a deep breath. “It would be better for the world if he was alive. Instead.”*****“We’re living out our mutual avoidance to the fullest,” Foggy had said, but there was no mistaking what this was.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Karen Page, Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Luke Cage/Jessica Jones, Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/James "Rhodey" Rhodes
Series: Way Down [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626514
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Nightmares, Dreams and Catastrophic Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is way more exposition-y than I wanted, but here it is anyway! I promise more happens in the next chapter when Peter becomes a competitor in the rash decision Olympics.

“What are we looking at?” Peter whispered as he landed softly on the roof behind Matt. The web shooters and the suit were still loud, but Peter himself had gotten stealthier. 

And better at sneaking around. 

“Have you been drinking?” Matt rounded on Peter in disbelief. And out as Spider-Man? He was going to kill him. Peter’s heart sped up and he threw his hands up defensively. 

“No, of course not! I would never - “ Matt cut him off silently, dismissing his protests with a hand wave. Peter would never, that was true.

“Harley?” Matt asked. Peter squirmed and kept silent, and Matt sighed. Outside of patrol, he hadn’t been spending as much time with Peter. Nelson, Murdock and Page was back up and as busy as ever. Over a year out from the blip, and new legal issues surfaced weekly. Matt was at the office sixty hours a week and barely spoke a word to Foggy and Karen that wasn’t about a case. He knew from Peter’s constant monologue that May was busy at work as well, and so Peter was spending the rest of his time with the girlfriend and at the lab in the Tower, with a mini Tony Stark. 

“In his defense,” Peter started, ignoring Matt’s exaggerated sigh, “Everyone drinks in college, and I don’t let him use anything fun in the lab when he’s drunk, and it’s only on the weekend, and I think Pepper knows and if she’s okay with it, then who are we to...” Peter trailed off sheepishly. So Matt could manage to express disapproval through the mask. Convenient. 

“But also,” Peter started up again and Matt managed to suppressed this sigh. He loved this kid, but he was a lot. “Harley developed the polymer you’re wearing so you don’t get fucking stabbed to death again.” He poked Matt in the chest for emphasis. Matt generally prioritized freedom of movement over protection, but Peter had presented the shirt hopefully to Matt at Christmas. It was light, quiet and deflected a knife just fine, and Matt could honestly admit it would be a mistake to not wear it. 

And anyway, Matt owed Peter that much for getting him caught up in his mess last fall. Due to the concussion and nearly bleeding out, Matt’s memories of the night were nonexistent. But Foggy assured him, through lots of yelling, that it was bad, bad enough that Matt hadn’t seen Wade for months. Peter shut down the one time Matt broached the subject, and Matt hadn’t tried again. At least The Hand seemed quiet again, although Matt tries not to dwell on whether that was actually a good thing.

“So what are we looking at?” Peter asked again, after following Matt’s line of focus toward the docks. “I mean, what am I looking at because you...” Peter trailed off at Matt’s frown. 

“Nothing, unfortunately,” he answered. Matt had waited for hours for the cargo to be unloaded from this ship, and it was literally empty boxes. Some were weighted down with dirt, or something, he couldn’t tell, but it wasn’t people. Great, except that meant the people being trafficked were elsewhere. Matt wasn’t sure if the information he picked up from a client was bad or if the traffickers had been spooked. (Foggy was going to kill him, after so many talks about not mixing work with Daredevil). 

“What was supposed to be in them?” Peter asked. 

“People,” Matt said. Peter flinched. “Traffickers.”

“What...kind of trafficking?” Peter asked, in a voice that suggested he didn’t actually want to know. 

“The kind you’re thinking,” Matt answered grimly. “Teenagers. They’re using a youth group as a front.” Peter’s heart rate - Peter’s everything went up. Matt reached for him, concerned, and Peter flinched back. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he stuttered, taking another step back. Peter took a deep breath to steady himself. “Really. It’s just late, need to get home before May worries, that’s all.” Peter stayed still, waiting for Matt’s approval to leave. Matt hesitated, but decided not to push. Harley was a firecracker, but Peter’s other friends were fairly protective. He didn’t need Matt breathing down his neck. 

“Take care, Spidey.” Peter nodded and webbed back up to the building he’d come from. Matt turned back to the docks, contemplating his next steps. 

——-

What Matt noticed first was that Karen had been sick that morning.

“You feeling okay?” And her heart honest to God skipped a beat. 

“Yeah, just,” she kept her voice even, “bad sushi.” No. But they were so busy, and Foggy had already handed Matt half a dozen cases, and Karen was deflecting, so Matt dropped it. 

Three days later, Karen walked in the door and Matt dropped his coffee. He’d been sitting on the edge of the desk, angled toward the door and listening, or more observing, the sounds from outside. Karen had been later than usual in the last week or so, and he wasn’t used to being in so early by himself. Foggy was a mid-morning arrival if they didn’t have court or early appointments, but not her. 

Karen looked at the coffee on the floor. Matt felt her look up at his face, searching.

“Seven weeks,” she said, her tone casual even though she knew Matt could hear her heart (not just hers) hammering nervously. “You’re at least as effective as transvaginal ultrasound.” A _baby_ , Jesus Christ. Karen took a tentative step toward him, and Matt pulled her into a hug. 

“Oh my God,” he murmured into her hair. He felt her smile from where her face was pressed into his neck. From this close, she smelled different. He rubbed her back and she sighed into him. 

“Can you smell the extra person, Fido?” Matt chuckled.

“No, it’s mostly the heartbeat. But you smell ... sweeter.” Karen giggled, and Matt took a chance. “Not more like Frank though.” Karen tensed and stepped back, pulling away from Matt’s touch. She’d been seeing Castle again for ages. Of course he knew, and she had to know he knew. Karen never mentioned it to him or Foggy, likely expecting a lecture and if Matt was honest with himself, she wasn’t wrong. So he never asked, she never told, and Foggy remained in the dark. 

Karen pursed her lips, not particularly angry but annoyed. Because he couldn’t help himself, Matt pushed again.

“Does he know?” Karen’s heart skipped a beat. Arms folded across her chest, and she shut Matt out. 

“I don’t see why you insist on confirming things you already know, Matt,” Karen said. She was agitated, but this wasn’t all about him. “It’s why you and Foggy are constantly at each other’s throats lately.” 

Matt frowned. She wasn’t wrong, but it stung to hear her say it out loud, to know that someone else noticed. 

“Uncalled for, but you’re deflecting.” Karen rolled her shoulders (and probably her eyes) and some of the tension left her body. 

“Why am I always stupid enough to argue with lawyers?” 

“You’re smarter than me and Foggy,” Matt said, closing the distance between them again and taking her hand. 

“But not smart enough to not get knocked up?” she asked. By _Castle_. Matt sighed and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

“I’m not judging,” Matt said, and he wanted it to be true, but Matt was by nature awfully judgmental, so he did his best. 

“Sure you aren’t.” Karen wasn’t an idiot. She didn’t let go of his hand, though, so she wasn’t that mad. 

“It’s not a choice I would make,” he said, earning a snort. “I will concede, Karen, that as someone who repeatedly returned to Elektra, including once when she was dead, I feel I am in no place to judge.” 

“But?” she asked. Matt focused on the two heartbeats. Karen always had a soothing effect on him, and now it was more like one and a half Karens. She was strong enough to cancel the Punisher half out, Matt thought uncharitably. Because he _was_ judging. Castle was dangerous. He’d never hurt Karen, he would protect her with his life, but he played a dangerous game. For months, Karen would smell like him but then she wouldn’t for weeks at a time. So Matt knew he was working, and Castle’s work was never safe. 

“He’s on a job,” Matt said, Karen now leaning against his shoulder with her hand still in his. “Can he - can we keep you safe? He’s reckless and Karen, I know he would do anything to keep you and this baby safe, but he’s Frank.”

“It’s government work,” Karen answered. “Not exactly on the books, but less risky.” Her heartbeat was steady when she answered. Matt knew she was as stubborn as he was, and she trusted Castle. She wasn’t worried at all. Her mood, her completely non-stressed nervous system - it was catching. And she felt him let go of the stress, too. She could read him as well as he could her, heightened senses notwithstanding. “Uncle Matty,” she teased.

Matt chuckled. “Foggy is going to have a coronary,” he said. 

“But not yet,” Karen pulled away from Matt so she could see his expression. Matt nodded. 

“Is he back soon?” he asked. Karen shrugged, casual but not so casual. So, she was a little worried. She’d gotten better at hiding things from him. His displeasure must’ve shown on his face. 

“Don’t be cranky,” she chided. Suddenly she sounded suspicious. “Why are you cranky?” Matt considered his choices. He almost went with avoidance but resigned himself to the truth. 

“I can’t read you as well anymore,” he admitted. 

“Uh huh,” Karen said, crossing her arms again. “We spend nearly every day together. You can read me just fine but you can’t tell when I’m lying, is that it?” Matt could tell from her smug satisfaction that his face was betraying everything. 

“Not like I could,” he admitted. “Everyone else - yes, I’m still a creepy lie detector.” Karen laughed dryly.

“But not Foggy either,” she said, and it wasn’t a question. Matt shook his head. 

“I can’t even - we used to be on the same wavelength and now I can’t even tell when I’m pissing him off or - anything!” Matt was surprised at his own outburst, but Karen wasn’t. 

“Five years is a long time, Matt,” Karen said. “And before that, you two were in a honeymoon period after several years of what was honestly the worst communication I’ve seen two grown adults manage.” 

That was fair. If Matt was being honest with himself, they never found that easy connection again after Foggy found him beat to hell in the Daredevil mask. Every off-hand remark and automatic quip between Foggy and Wade grated on Matt like nails on a chalkboard. Matt was jealous, and it _hurt_.

“Matt, you look like a kicked puppy,” Karen said, pushing a wayward strand of hair off his forehead. “Maybe try being a little less stubborn? Give a little?”

“I don’t have any idea how to do that, Karen,” Matt answered. Karen huffed a laugh and kissed his cheek before sitting down at her desk. 

“One of you will figure it out eventually.” She started sorting through the papers on her desk, already mindlessly chewing on her pen, both heartbeats strong in the quiet office.

——

“You know what he’s like.” Foggy sounded exasperated and Matt just knew it was about him. He paused at the door and listened, knowing it was wrong but too invested to stop. 

“Yeah, he’s been out with the kid at night.”

A sigh. “You know I can’t ask him. He’d go straight back to Peter with it.” Ah, Wade then. 

“A few times. He is perfectly friendly and pretends to be interested in pop culture references from the decade before his birth, but he is only here to make extremely transparent attempts to drag information out of Ellie.” Wade’s pained noise was loud enough for Matt to hear through the phone, but not his muffled response.

“When did I become your teenage handler proxy? I never signed up for this. Talk to him, Wade.” A pause, and Foggy’s voice was gentler this time. “He misses you.”

A longer pause. Matt imagined Foggy leaning too far back in his ridiculous ergonomic chair. It was how he always talked on the phone. “Fuck you,” but there was no heat to it. “You’re one to talk.” Matt could practically hear Foggy roll his eyes. “You’re hurting the kid’s feelings, but we’re living out our mutual avoidance to the fullest.” Foggy was quiet for a while; Wade could go on forever.

“Yeah, whatever. But I should go before Matt gets here and listens in without asking.” Matt flinched and rubbed his forehead, attempting to stave off a stress headache. Does he really live up to everyone’s worst expectations? It seems more accurate that he’s sinking down to them. Matt sighed and finally entered the office. Foggy was still leaning back in the chair, rocking slightly as he read whatever briefing he’d set on his lap. 

“Good morning, Foggy.” Foggy looked up from the briefing and his attention was fully on Matt. Once, after a particularly long day ending in more gin than was strictly necessary, Karen told Matt that Foggy lit up when he was around, like he was just so happy that Matt inhabited the same plane of existence as him (it was a lot of gin). Matt could feel it sometimes, in Foggy’s gaze focused on him and the slight increase in his heart rate. Today, it made him feel like trash to know Foggy was happy to see him just minutes like after bitching about him to Wade. And Matt only knew that because he eavesdropped. 

“Is it? It feels too early to be a good morning, Matt. A good morning should start at 10. Or after dropping $16 on avocado toast.” Matt’s stomach rebelled at the thought of food. It had been a late night, with nothing major but more kicks in the ribs than he preferred. Foggy was in a good mood, but Matt must have dropped a tell because Foggy was suddenly suspicious. He crossed the room to the doorway and focused on Matt like he was the only thing in the universe. 

“Rough night?” Foggy brushed his thumb against a bruise that apparently peaked out from Matt’s hairline. 

“Your chair is stupid,” Matt said petulantly and batted his hand away. 

“Not everyone martyrs themselves sleeping on a concrete floor,” Foggy teased. 

“I don’t - “ Matt protested but Foggy interrupted him. 

“I know where you sleep,“ he said, his tone light and unaffected by Matt’s shitty mood. Foggy straightened Matt’s blazer, his hands lingering just a second too long as his knuckles lightly brushed against Matt’s chest. Matt’s breath caught in his throat, that brief touch sending lightning down his spine. Matt was rattled. But Foggy was already back at his desk, a fanned out stack of papers in front of him, completely unaware of Matt’s distress and on his best, most typical Foggy behavior for the rest of the day.


End file.
